How many times did I pass the city gates
And forgot to look around a bit.
There's beauty, little bits of trembling fine-
ness, good bright things in places.

I lay wait in shadows of ideas. I'm underneath some underpass by highways,
And all I need to cure me of this is a little sunshine.

There isn't a thing that kills this spirit.
I've tried to put to sleep all unsettling things, but they whisper here or there,
And though it hurts me sometimes, I've found a peace within the chaos.

Take a walk, read a book.
Cook the dinner, wake at reasonable hour.
This modest existence, not knowing the weight of dreams, well it can kill.
And love is a circle, just passage bending.

There are users and accusers.
There are silent things, and rough trade.
I'm okay, I'm alright, I'm alive.
I see it, and it suits me, because I journey.

Untitled No. Whatever

I Distill the paths that others took,
When the taking took them to big changes in their being.

I rewrite every thought in my mind.
I'm always dividing,
I just never seem to follow whatever strange current it seems is sweeping me.
I should just ride that thing, maybe...

A contralto of horns play out with
My steps around this town.
Yeah, I'm dreaming again, always.
My ride is a tally between comedy and tragedy. I should just hold you, baby.

I'm sick in the head, positively.
It's all just visions and accumulated decisions. My instinct is insipience.
I want all the closeness, all the heart.
Just don't know how to start any of it.

To look harmless and hiding a dagger.
To seem resolute yet remiss.
Place my lips to this; whispered kisses.
Two roads diverged in a wood,
Go through the woods. Paths aren't good.

No pattern scorned the earth with it's
Amount of recognition to the wild.
Life wins, love envelopes everyone a little.
To be scared of what's most desired is
Perhaps natural, but dare the unknown.